


Surprise Visit: The Sequel

by koomega



Series: Surprise Flight [2]
Category: dreamnotfound - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Cute, Cute gays, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Love, M/M, also hates the readers, bxb - Freeform, the universe hates gogy and dweam, you dont get a rest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-08
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:13:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 13,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25762696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koomega/pseuds/koomega
Summary: A lot of things could change in a year, George's feelings for the blonde excluded.However, the ability to want never made it happen.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: Surprise Flight [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1868857
Comments: 811
Kudos: 1168





	1. The First of Many

**Author's Note:**

> IT'S HERE!! THE SEQUEL IS HEREEE!!! I hope you guys enjoy! I have quite a few plans ready this time! <3

_You will be my girl, my girl, my girl._

_You will be my world, my world, my world._

Feet digging into the sharp pebbles of the everlasting sidewalk. That cold, engulfing evening in the UK George was taking a stroll around the crowded city. Headphones on his head blasting music that oddly hit close enough to home.  A soft yet vibrant smile lit his face up as his head rang with thoughts belonging to the little world he'd created for himself. A safe space.

We all have those, right? A small, tidy room in the back of our minds we dive too deep into sometimes. It's comforting, yet strange. Like a cold body against his own in his freshly washed vanilla sheets.

_Vanilla._

He remembers all about that scent. Matter of fact, it belonged to someone he used to adore. We don't speak of him anymore, though. Unless it's 2 a.m. and George curls himself silently into his own body, wondering what he'd done wrong. _It's not your fault._ He knew it wasn't, but maybe if he hadn't been so selfish, maybe he would've stayed. 

That's all history now, time heals, right?

Vibrating fingertips met the brunette's waist, molding themselves into the little flesh he had. He's pulled back against a wide body, a giggle heard behind him. George's head fell backward, resting itself onto the comfortable shoulders of his boyfriend. His earbuds fell out on their own accord. "You finally came. I was about to go home." He smiled, "  God, Connor, you need to learn to manage time better." His eyes looked over at the panting figure.

Dark, ocean-like blues for pupils with timid hazelnut locks to compliment his twinkling smile. "Sorry," the boy let out, chest heaving. Their eyes met, and it almost felt like, between the array of gushing humans, they were the only ones there. The only ones that mattered, anyway. But almost isn't enough, is it? For George it was. It was- it was more than enough.

You could ask the brunette what he felt about half-hearted love, and he'd rush to admire the simple thought of someone loving another. Even if it was 50% of their all, to George it was all he could ever ask for.

Connor let his lips press together, tight. Time rose back to it's blooming speed, the sound of train engines, chatter, and mere bliss of the cold country. "I'm sorry, I was trying- trying my hardest to get here. You did text  all of  a sudden, George." His eyebrows rose, and George pouted, realizing the latter was right. "So? What's the emergency?" Those comfortable hands left his waist. The tingling sensation lingered on the brunette's skin, though, even above his jacket. "I was lonely..."

They walked, Connor's head shifting forward before a cackle erupted from his throat. "So, EMERGENCY HURRY! wasn't you getting kidnapped but rather your loneliness eating you alive?" His head tilted, a smile cracking through the slight shock in his voice. "In my defense, I was getting eaten alive. Still an emergency." More laughter, even more, smiles. Happy.

Connor took the resting silence as an opportunity to lean over and take one of George's earbuds. The brunette let it happen, inhaling the sweet scent of nothing.

7 months, not a single fight. Not a single relationship-threatening fight. It felt like all they did was sit there and-and _couple_. George couldn't complain, though. He much rather prefers this than constant arguing.

The two lovebirds walked their way back to George's humble abode, though his mind was never at rest. "Hey, George?" The brunette looked down at the door handle as he pushed it open. George hummed, "Yes?" 

"Well, I know we've talked about this, a-a lot, and I don't wanna be pushy... but," Connor sighed. He walked into the apartment, throwing himself onto the couch like he owned the place. His shoes flung themselves off, as his eyes bore into the ceiling, "Why don't... why don't you let me do much to you? Like I know you... you need _time,_ but it's been..." George nodded, closing the door behind him with his foot. "months, I know. I'm just... Not really ready yet?" 

His statement was more of a question. More of a, _I'll use my excuses until you believe one of them._ The way his voice erupted, unlike his fidgeting fingers, was very confident. _Woken._ "Have you..." Connor turned his head over to the frail boy whom he'd gotten to know the past couple of months. "Have you ever been... touched?" 

George let a laugh escape his slender throat, 

_"Don't hold back, alright?"_

He shook his head,

_"Oh, shit, oh-"_

His eyes met Connors familiar ones, 

_"'M gonna cum, gonna c-"_

"No."

A tempting smile lit up on Connor's face, "So I'd be your first?" The brunette responds almost immediately by snuggling himself close into the pillow of the single couch. Connor groaned, opening his arms, eyes half-closed as he mumbled a small _c'mere._ George giggled, trotting over cutely before slipping himself between Connor's strong arms. 

In your eyes, their relationship is probably like ... a cheap version of Minecraft. Kinda wack, but for someone with low expectations, it does _wonders._ For George, however, he thought it was... perfect. Maybe because he felt the want to alter someone else to be his perfect match, but refused to change himself. Connor never called him out on it because, in all honesty, he didn't really care. George didn't need to know this, though, did he?

The weight of the aforementioned's arm rested on George's waist. This told the brunette that Connor was fast asleep. I mean, of course, he was. It'd been approximately forty-five minutes of laying there, staring at the back of George's head as his thoughts wandered beyond explanation. Yet, George couldn't understand why he couldn't fall asleep. Eyes fall tenderly, only to snap back open. He let a sigh slip between his chapped lips, before deciding. Managing to get out between Connor's engulfing hold, he stood up, only to feel a hand above his. 

"Where are you going?" He heard the tired boy speak, and he chuckled to himself. The brunette turned around and bent down to peck his forehead. Connor hummed, a small smile on his sleep-deprived face. "Bathroom. Be right back, okay?" George caressed his warm cheek as the latter nodded, curling into the couch. The soft pitter-patter of George's feet carried itself not to the bathroom, but rather his bedroom. 

He stood right in front of the small built-in closet. 

His hand reached, grabbed, and pulled. A deep breath followed by a rummaging of clothes. There it was. 

George smiled to himself, taking the soft, green hoodie and let his feet drag him to his empty bed. He scoffed, looking down at the hoodie itself before gripping it tightly as if that could help the faltering tears. His head hit the soft pillows and his body had turned sideways. Knees came up, and once again, he curled in his emptiness. If he compressed himself, maybe then he could fill the void he pretends isn't there. A small smile creeps onto his pained face, and he recaps on the last, most _painful_ year of his life. 

He remembers crying himself to sleep almost every night, avoiding any social media. He also remembers spamming _Dream_ with messages, bombarding his inbox with voicemails, just to get nothing in return. _Nothing._ He remembers wasting his birthday wish on him, all on him. But nothing worked.

Everything felt so... hopeless. Like Minecraft without shaders, or a cake without a candle. He didn't want to leave his bed, he didn't even want to remotely speak. He then found Connor, the pretty boy with the hazelnut hair and sparkling smile. He felt better, things got better. 

It's like the blue-eyed beauty taught the beast to find happiness until it finally became its own beautiful prince. George was in the process, and he knew he could get there. _Time can heal, just keep going._

Those are the words he whispered to himself that late evening. He just hopes it's true.


	2. Drowned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when George thought things were finally starting to mold and settle, the universe says fuck you. Quite literally, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TRIGGER WARNING!!***  
> there is idk what you would call it but SOMEWHAT RAPE OKAY PLS DO NOT READ OR SKIP THE SEGS PART!

Chirping and air conditioning,

That was all the brunette's devastating morning after consisted of. Oh, and a questioning Connor- but that was something he could deal with later. Classic George, putting everyone after himself. 

"Babe?" Connor called out, his head poking out from the steaming hot bathroom. _No response,_ Maybe he wanted some space? I mean, he did pester a lot this morning about the hoodie, and the leaving-him-alone, _and_ the swollen eyes. He was just worried, though. Was that... bad? Should he not? Was he being pushy? Maybe too annoying-

"Yes?" The brunette appeared in front of the male, who snapped out of the ego-eating intrusions he called 'thoughts.' Connor grinned, water dripping from the curves of his face. He tilted his head as much as he could and proceeded to bat his eyelashes, "Can you pretty please get me a towel?" George huffed mid-sentence, hands coming to his hips. "You _always_ do this, you know?" 

Low, incomprehensible complaints escaped George's lips meanwhile he got the thin, white towel. He pushed it into Connor's wet chest, only for him to grip at his forearm and pull him in for a quick kiss. The brunette giggled at the little pecks and kisses Connor left across his skin, a bright smile decorating his face. They pulled away simultaneously and looked at each other for a little long while. A little long while, what you consider a short time, but at that moment could feel like it's been hours. Yet, George didn't feel time slow down. It felt rather awkward, trying to watch Connor balance himself between the door. Almost as if he were deciding whether to come out or not, but could not come to terms with a choice.

The hazel haired boy was quick to open the bathroom door and step closer to the brunette, looking down at his dark brown orbs. His hands reached for George's waist, arms snaking themselves around. George looked up, eyes widened, mouth expressing his own emotions by shutting up. Connor leaned in to kiss his cheek, his kisses became slow but steady as they lowered down to his neck. George's eyes bore into the ceiling, refusing to look anywhere else. He blinked.

That's... all he did. 

He let Connor carry him to the bed, kissing up and down his neck in the meantime. He felt his back hit the soft mattress and noticed he was on the right side. _Dream_ used to lay there. Always, always, always the right side. He refused to sleep on this side for the sake of his sleep schedule, yet also refused to move. He needed this. 

It's the last step to finally... _jump_ over the hurdle that was Dream's toxicity. He would finally breathe, after moments of drowning. 

He needed this. He needed this. He needed this. He needed this. 

Pants slipped off, limbs numb. Connor started to shift his hips as his lips marked up George's territory. He was so busy satisfying himself he chose rather not to notice the long trail of tears on the brunette's tinted cheeks. 

The rest is history George decides to store in the deepest parts of his mind. 

Let me explain something to you; Connor is not oblivious. He isn't _stupid,_ okay? Let's keep this in mind.

* * *

George laid limp, his breathing calming his abused thoughts. He looked over at Connor, who was asleep comfortably on his side of the bed. He cleared his throat, sound overcoming the room's echo. A dry smile overcame him, tired eyes zooming past each one of his visible windows. Sitting up and pulling his sheets over and off his body, feet meeting the cold floor of his room. George sniffed, taking his underwear that laid on the floor and slipped them on. 

_Distractions, distractions, distractions,_

His eyes scanned his line of view, almost as if this were some healthy little hobby he did when he refused to deal with his emotions. They landed on his computer, and his eyes sparkled. He hadn't played in a long while, two months to be specific- mainly because of life in general. Maybe they missed him? 

Oh, and Sapnap! God, he missed them. He grinned, walking over and grabbing some random shirt to wear before logging into Discord. He clicked on _Minecraft Sappynappatus Peasants_ server, whilst loading up his Minecraft. He laughed, _I guess Sapnap supremacy._

He clicked on the private voice chat and giggled a small, "Hello?" 

He spammed W, walking around, mindless as he heard everyone's discussions slowly die down. Almost immediately everyone started welcoming, questioning, and most _definitely_ worrying. 

_"OH MY GOD, GEORGE!"_

_"HI! WHERE WERE YOU?"_

_"Are you okay?! Is everything okay?"_

George sighed into the mic, lips curling into a delicate smile. He started answering questions, and eventually it's like he'd forgotten about the person in his bed. "Dream? Why aren't you talking?" said Sapnap, and it's like everyone went silent. They didn't, no one cared if I'm being honest. Mainly because no one _knew._

But the voices died out, and George's fingers came to a halt. His palms rested on his keyboard, pushing down different keys. "Hi, George." 

A gasp, _disconnect._ "Hey..." _disconnect **now** , George. _"How have you..." a pause, "are you okay?" 

George scoffed, _disconnect._ "Yeah, I'm great, thank you for asking." _disconnect._ George couldn't see, but Dream was speechless. His heart was stuttering and his words had to force themselves out. "I, uh, that's really good to know, actually." He couldn't bear the sour taste his own words left in his sinning mouth. "I-"

"Dream came out! I just thought you should know, cause, yknow, you guys are like..." Sapnap interrupted, voice beaming in George's headphones. His eyes widened, and his hand trembled to his mouse. _Don't do it._ His mind, his body, everything screamed at him to stop. Stop, stop stop, fucking stop. But he proceeded to click onto Dream's profile picture. _Add Friend._ His mouse hovered

It blinked, it thought, it processed. 

"Babe? Who are you talking to?" Connor mumbled, eyes squinting open. 

George exhaled, rushing his cursor over to click _disconnect._ "Nobody, Just Sapnap. I missed them." He let out a forced chuckle, turning around in his chair, but his eyes preferred not to meet Connor's glowing orbs. He hummed, looking at the dirty sheets, "I thought I told you-"

"Yeah, I know, not to talk to them. But Connor, they're my friends. You have to understand-" Connor cut him off, eyes snapping over to George, "I said not to talk to them, alright? I don't want you getting false hopes." 

George's eyebrows furrowed, and Connor's gaze softened once he realized what he said. "What, you think I'm incapable of having friends, Connor?" 

"No that- It came out wrong, George, I'm just trying-" 

"Get out." George's voice rose. It _beamed_ through the cold air of the apartment. Connor looked at him in shock, before realizing he was serious. He grabbed his clothes off the floor and walked past George, feet heavy. The brunette heard the door shut and 

After so much drowning, he finally knew what it felt like to take a breath of fresh air. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO???? y i k e s ik :( connor is an a hole but so is dream who tf do i pick 


	3. Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like sticky notes on your fridge or reminders on your phone, memories work the same. Except they aren't disposable.

Inhale and exhale

Such a simple action, yet so helpful. This is what George did until the evolving tears prickled at his skin. He scoffed, “asshole.” His limp body worked its way to his jacket that hung itself against his door. His fingers lingered on the soft cotton of the grey jacket, before turning around and grabbing the hoodie that laid on his bed.

George walked to the bathroom and turned the light on, watery eyes admiring his reflection. His hands nipped at the fabric as his eyes scanned the pretty green that adorned the hoodie. He smiled, dull eyes shifting their attention back to the light switch. He turned it off and made his way to the kitchen. He grabbed his keys, ears tuning into the soft jingle of the keys. Reminds him of Christmas; it was coming soon.

_Mental note: Get yourself a Christmas gift!_

The brunette opened the heavy apartment door, the soft pitter-patter of his feet against the stairs enough to entertain him. Opening the building door, a rush of cold hit him. It felt refreshing like he hadn’t been out in months, but he’d been out yesterday.

George let out a breath, watching it turn to a cloud of slow smoke. _Pretty_.

He closed his eyes, head throwing itself back as his feet followed the empty street. It wasn’t very busy today, he was grateful for that. But, his mind was no longer stuck on the jingle of his keys, or the gentle pitter-patter of his own feet, and it immediately raced to him. Him as in the owner of the hoodie he wore, and him as in the boy he never thought he’d hear of again. The thoughts he’d have of Dream were nothing like the ones he had of Connor. With Connor, it was almost forgetful. More little questions like _I wonder what he’s doing right now,_ or _does he know I don’t like this?_ With the blonde, however ...

_does he think of me? Has he found someone new?_

_"Why can’t I kiss you?” Not until you figure yourself out._

He still remembers the feeling of Dreams hands on his waist, and that time he let them slip away. He beats himself up for it every day, every fucking day. He knows it’s not fair, George _knows_. But life was never fair to anyone, was it?

His eyes were now fixed on the little _Cafe! 24/7_ sign. He liked to think the Rose lighting made him look pretty, _would Dream think that?_

George walked into the comforting building to find himself for once, not knowing what to get. He pondered on the thought of another hot chocolate, but it didn’t appetize him. “I’ll get a... a coffee, please.”

“Lots of milk, lots of sugar.”

and so, he sat himself down on the double-seated table with the same, intricate designs. His fingers traced the swirls and colorful carve-outs of the table, and his eyes led themselves to the seat in front of him. He remembers all about that night. The way his blonde hair bravely took off in the wind, the way his smile had made George’s heartbeat thrice as hard. He refuses to remember the words that came out, though. It’s a part of him he agreed not to come back to. He thanked the waiter for his coffee, taking the warm cup in his hands.

He took a sip, only to clear his throat afterward. He laughed to himself, _that is really sweet._ But nonetheless, he drank his feelings away.

Yes, once again, the cat-shaped clock grabbed his full attention. He’d been sitting alone in the cafe for about an hour now, and it was getting quite tiring having to say he was a _"slow drinker.”_ He misses the old worker, wonders where she went. _Maybe she only does night shifts?_

Nonetheless, George stuck that thought to the back of his mental fridge, behind all the clutter. _Maybe later_ , he thought. 

* * *

Dream sat, hands ruffling his blonde locks as a heavy huff escaped his lips. "I- I know, Eric, I know. It's... I didn't think I'd see him again." His eyes rose to the light-brown haired heartthrob. Green pupils and a charming white smile on his tan skin. "What should I do? Do I just- I should-" 

Eric opened his mouth, but the blonde interrupted once again, "Yeah, you're right! I should apologize. Good thinking." Dream spoke, loud enough for everyone near them in the oh-so-popular mall could hear every bit of their conversation. He shot out of his chair only to get dragged back into it by the green-eyed male. "W-wait! Uhm. I-I don't think you should." 

He cleared his throat, locking eyes with the confused elder. "What?" 

"Well, I mean, I'm on your side. I don't think you should apologize, though. I mean, he has a boyfriend, and-" 

"He WHAT?!" Okay, now _everyone_ heard them. "How do you know?" Dream stuttered behind every syllable, every word stuck in his throat. What he didn't know, however, was that Eric felt the same. 

"I sort of know him, but I didn't want to tell you because it'd be sort of awkward." Eric watched as a worried shadow engulfed Dream. _He didn't like this._ "But don't worry! Uh- J-Jake is a- he's a great guy!" _Jake. Great thinking, dumbass._ "Jake, huh?" Dream's tongue poked his cheek and his arms crossed themselves.

"Tell me more about him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YIIIIIKKEEESS LOOKS LIKE ERIC KINDA... KINDA SUS >>   
> HOW ARE YOU GUYSSSSSSS IERGKUFJKHEDSHUN I MISSED YOU SO MUCHHHHH :((((((((((((( UPDATES WILL BE MORE CONSISTENT NOW!! I WASN'T AT HOME FOR A WHILE AND HAD TO WORK WITH MY DATA. THANK YOU GUYS FOR STICKING AROUND!!! I hope you have an aMAZING day :(( <3


	4. maybe don't get drunk at midday and kiss your friend who has feelings for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Distractions are fine, of course, as long as they agree to be one. I don't exactly recall Eric agreeing.

“Were closing in 5.” The worker behind the counter said, annoyed emitting off her tone. They both watched as Dream tried to come up with some flimsy excuse so he could stay a little bit longer. Meanwhile, Eric’s eyes bore into the features of his face, almost scrutinizing. “It’s fine, Clay. Let’s go.”

Eric stood up, chair scraping the marble floor and his hand reached to grab Dream’s; dragging him out of the store. The blonde protested, though. “I don’t wanna!” he whined, head throwing itself back in disagreement.

Eric rolled his eyes, refusing to implement the basic knowledge of consent once the elder decided to act like a full-time brat. He gripped at his arm and pulled him through the glass door and onto the parking lot. The sun revealed itself upon them, causing Dream to squint his eyes and cover his face with his forearm. “You always do this. Can’t you ever behave in a public place? Jesus.”

The light-brown haired boy took his car keys out his back pocket, other hand dragging the blonde. The lights of the shiny, modern red car flickered, and Eric sighed. “Get in.”

He watched as Dream opened the passenger’s seat and sat down, sulking into his aura. Disgusting. “Dude, you’re like, so annoying when you simp.” The younger mumbled, sitting into the driver’s seat. “You still haven’t even told me his Instagram.”

“Because he doesn’t have one, Clay!”

“That’s bullshit! Everyone has socials. What if you’re lying to me.” He mumbled, pout playing on his lips as his arms crossed defensively. “Why the hell would I lie to you?” Eric said, accelerating the car and driving out of the parking lot. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re jealous or something.” He mumbled, eyes on the road instead of the person next to him.

“Bruh moment. It’s not like I like you or something what the fuck. I’m telling you he doesn’t have socials.” Eric shrugged, hands on the wheel as his fingers tapped along to the music on the radio. Dream gasped, reaching to turn the radio up as Eric watched from the side of his eye. He scoffed out a laugh, smile lingering on his thin lips. “What?” Dream looked over a confused look on his face.

“You’re so fuckin’ weird, dude.”

* * *

“Oh, fuck no! No, no! Eric, That was mine!” Dream groaned, watching as his ‘friend’ chugged down the last shot of vodka they’d prepared on the big glass table. “There’s more, y’ know.” Eric retorted, nodding toward the fridge. “Yeah, but I don’t wanna get up and get more.” The blonde complained, rubbing his eyes, rose dusting on his freckled cheeks. Everything felt heavy, almost hard to grasp. But this was normal for them, they’d always drink for fun. It’s something a regular person would call an addiction, but to them, it’s just habit. Is there a difference? No idea.

“So just,” the brunette paused to look over at the almost empty warm bottle of vodka on the table and back at Dream. “Drink from there.”

“Good idea.”

Let me catch you up; glass table, overpriced vodka, and two young adults alone. They were currently at Eric’s very impressive estate, which his daddy bought him for his birthday. Yeah, yeah, being a legacy comes with its benefits. They’d decided to drink the afternoon away because, and I quote, ‘why the hell not.’ And are now going to do the same thing they always did for the remainder of their day. Except, something else was on Dream’s mind.

Dream picked his phone up with one hand as the other held the empty bottle of vodka. He reached his thumb over to the Discord app.

Minecraft Sappynappatus Peasants

Offline

Gogynotfound#0240

Add friend

A moment of silence for the confidence boost Dream gets whilst drunk, and another one for the freak out he’s going to have the morning after. “Hey, Eric?” He spoke, voice shifty. “Yeah?” The brunette looked over, tired eyes hovering over the blonde’s pretty face. Dream stood up, walking over to the emerald-eyed boy, almost tripping on his own feet in the process.

He let his body think by itself, leg lifting and settling itself on the opposite side of the brunette. Dream giggled, settling his body weight onto the younger’s thighs. Arm wrapping itself around his neck as his other hand caressed Eric’s cheek; neither knew what to think, but Eric was really into it. It was almost obvious by the fact that his hand was now hovering over the blonde’s ass.

Dream leaned in, pressing his lips against the brunette’s, and honestly, maybe sparks did fly.

Ding

Gogynotfound#0240 has added you back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH???? WHATS THIS???? AN UPDATE ON TIME?????? How is everyone???? GOD I missed you :((( I seriously love love LOVVEEE this book and idk what im gonna do when it finishes


	5. Making Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you give a 24-year-old the opportunity to text the one thing he won’t ever stop loving, what does he do? Overthink.

I don’t think people realize what a toxic relationship is.

See, because I see the way others describe it, and of course, it’s horrible, it eats you alive, but you aren’t _aware_ of it.  You don’t walk away because you feel strong enough to dodge the punches he’s swinging at your face once you show him he doesn’t control you. It’s a constant cycle of cat and dog; it never stops. Not until something comes between the wheel and _stops_ it. And even then, you’re in danger for the rest of your life, because now that’s all you know.

The only thing gained from that bone-crushing experience was a dependency on others.  You believe you aren’t anybody without the love they gave you because everyone else refused to admire, touch, _fantasize_ you the way they did. The way _he_ did.

Love comes in many shapes, sizes, and forms. Some are sick, twisted, demented, and addicting.

Yet, this has nothing to do with our shy brunette and open-hearted blonde. Today, I spare you.

There he laid, blonde curls engulfed by the tall pillow of Eric’s bed, tired eyes scanning the bright screen. Though squinting, he managed to read 4:23 a.m. His head hurt. it screamed at him to for the love of God, go back to sleep and ignore one of many notifications that read;

_Gogynotfound#0240 has added you back!_

His throat dried, hand trembling and he laid there, aghast, realizing what had happened. Soon enough, he remembered he’d added George, and then he… kissed Eric? Dream looks over his shoulder to acknowledge the sleeping beauty beside him. He’d never thought of Eric that way before,  honestly. It wasn’t like he wasn’t attractive, or anything. Their relationship was way too brotherly to simulate as something more. That was what he’d thought, at least, until he realized his dick was the size of a Fiji water bottle.

Dream sniffed, turning back to his phone, only to realize it’d dropped out his shaking hand. He scurried to look for it under him, but it only started the green-eyed boy that slept beside him. Eric grumbled a cute thing or two, before turning over and snuggling close to Dream. His face dug into the blonde’s scent-less neck, arms snaking around his swiftly sculpted waist. Dream halted, body tensing in the awkward atmosphere. His hand settled down to his side, and his fingertips felt the cold, toxic material of his phone screen.

He pulled it out, only to get his password wrong thrice and stumble across 14 apps before finally clicking onto Discord. He sees it.

_Offline_

_Maybe he’s sleeping, right? I mean, it’s- oh… times are different there. Forgot, huh._

Better for him,  honestly. Now he won’t have to worry about his response right away! Yeah, he’s probably busy during the daytime!  So, he laid between Eric’s arms for a good fifteen minutes before finally deciding on _Hey_ out of all the possible messages he could’ve sent. Such a basic word and can mean so much during certain moments.

He was ready to drop his phone and fall back asleep, until it vibrated in his very hand, screen lighting up. It was almost teasing him at this point, and he swore, he swore he wouldn’t look at it. He won’t look at it because George did _not_ just text him ‘Hi!’ He doesn’t know that because he didn’t look, of course.

_Ding_

_Speedia has found more flights for the UK! Check them out before they’re gone!_

_Pissbaby#0241 is typing …_

George watched as the dots appeared

and then disappeared.

_Why did he add me? Does he miss me? Do I… am I supposed to miss him?_

_Ding_

_Pissbaby#0241: how have you been?_

_How have I been?_ Why should he care? He was the one who left him anyway … right? George refuses to admit they’re both at fault, always has, and always will. They were immature, still are, impatient, and believe they’re unworthy of each other. This is the exact reason why George sees their stars align that very evening. Looking up from the empty bench he sat at, he saw all the beautiful planets twinkle in the distance. They remind him of Dream’s eyes; full of wonder and a _beautiful_ never-ending sea of color.

_Gogynotfound#0240: been good lol wbu?_

_Pissbaby#0241: yikes… we hanging in there, haha._

_Haha._

Is he… is this what dry texting feels like? Because George hates every _bit_ of it. The brunette grips the phone  tightly  in his hand as the cold of England swallowed his petite body whole.

_Gogynotfound#0240: cold._

_Pissbaby#0241: cold?_

_Gogynotfound#0240: it’s cold :(_

_Pissbaby#0241 has sent a picture!_

_Open_

It was a picture of Dream, warmly tucked into the covers of a strange-looking bed.

_Pissbaby#0241: cant relate ;) in bed and tired asf_

George’s thumbs fumbled their way across his keyboard, yet it resulted in nothing but backspace. _Wish you were here. Need you. Miss you. Want you._ God, there are so many things he could just  … scream.  However, Dream got to it first.

_Ding_

_Pissbaby#0241: got Speedia notifs lol tickets are on sale. :)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UUH.... UM CHILEEEEE.E.... ANYWAAAYYYSSS IDK WHY YALL CANCELLING ERIC YA;L SHOULD BE CANCELLING DREAM FOR USING LIGHT MODE............ HOW IS EEVERYONE????? i love YOUUUUU


	6. apologies make us whole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His lips would've tasted better if they were yours.

George got up, cold body leaving the warmed bench that same evening. Dream hadn’t responded after he’d  accidentally  sent, _"Oh my god, you’re coming?”_ and then continued to spam with _omg_ 's

So yes, he was quite upset.  But nothing beat the glooming feeling of utter dread once he opened his apartment door and saw the familiar, broken figure in front of him. “George-“

“How the _hell_ did you get inside?”

“Spare key.”

His anxiety spiked, the room was almost pitch black and he had refused to turn the light on. George closed the door behind him and sat on the couch opposite his lover. His legs closed instinctively and his hands fidgeted with the fabric of the used cushion. “W-what do you want, Connor?” You couldn’t tell, but his eyes focused on the floor beneath them. Not once has he even remotely tried to focus on the latter, because if he did he was afraid he’d suffer a panic attack or five.

“I want to apologize… I-“

He choked up. _He choked up._ That’s good, right? He’s… he feels for me, I suppose. He isn’t trying to hurt me…

“I’m sorry, George.  Honestly,” he paused, and then came a sigh. “I have anger issues. I usually take medication for it, but I’m way too stubborn to sometimes.” George heard a shuffle, another shuffle, then felt the breeze of his body next to him. A hand touched his and his body immediately responded with a flinch. Connor intertwined their fingers, hand squeezing gently at his pressure points. “I took my anger out on you when we… when _I_ forced you to do anything sexual with me, and I’m sorry. I- I’m working on it, I promise.”

Yet, the kind love gesture was short-lived, as silence took over the environment. It was quiet, but because George had nothing to say. He’s not very good with words, nor is he with actions, so he did what his body asked him to; he cried.

Short, quiet sobs fell from the younger's soul, and a small smile formed on Connor’s lips. His arm hugged him, pulling the broken boy into his strong arms. “Please forgive me… It wasn’t my intention.”

And after another moment of silence, George spoke. Voice cracking, a sniffle or two, but he spoke.

“I forgive you.” He lunged himself at the elder’s arms, engulfing himself into the warmness of his body. Connor’s smile shifted into a heartless simper,

“I knew you’d stay.”

* * *

Whilst George refused to open his eyes to his hurt, Dream’s eyes awoke to beautiful green ones staring at him. He hummed, blinking a couple of times before being able to captivate the moment around him. Before he could even think, Eric pushed his lips onto his. Another moment, but in this one, he contemplated. He really, _really_ contemplated. _Do I go with it?_

Yet, before he could come to terms with a decision, Eric pulled away. He smiled a big, goofy grin and pet the side of Dream’s head adoringly. And, then it clicked. Something that shouldn’t be, but is, and won’t go away now that it’s found him. Eric likes him. Eric _fucking_ likes him, and he thinks his feelings had reciprocated themselves.

It makes sense now, Dream thinks.  Watching the boy as he stood up and walked out of the master bedroom to an even nicer bathroom without a single care in the world. He seems happy, and Dream doesn’t want to ruin that. He’d done it to George and it’d-

Oh, yeah, George.

Dream took his phone in his hand and flipped through his open apps so he wouldn’t have to find it in the wreck that was his 6 thousand apps.

_Mental Note: Add discord to your first tab._

He noticed the open chat he had fallen asleep on and smiled. It was more of _he doesn’t hate me_ kind of smile, but you could tell he had his doubts.

_Pissbaby#0241: Sorry, fell asleep!! What’s upppp?_

And you couldn’t deny the fact that George’s heart skipped a beat every time he felt the short _buzz_ of his phone, but this time, it skipped for the wrong reasons.

_“Oh… Who’s texting you?”_

The brunette’s eyes quivered before meeting with the elders. He smiled, “Nobody.”

“George, Don’t lie to me.”

When Connor reached his hand to grip at George's phone, George' bony fingers felt around his inner thigh, face leaning into his ear before he whispered,

“Nobody, trust me.”

And so, for the first time in his life, George gave his body to cover for something far more precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so um...... yall might hate me but uh i did a THING AHAHAHAH i feel so bad you guys don't get ANY action I'm so soRRY :,(


	7. The Fragil Boy and the Pink Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It sucks when someone doesn't think you're worth it, but it sucks, even more, when you believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **TW PLEASE READ!!**  
> this chapter includes homophobic slurs, descriptions of emotional sexual abuse, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION!!

_I would've thanked you._

_If I could, I would thank you._

Dream stood there, fear welling in his eyes. The looming figure of his angry father towering above him, his mother staring in disgust. This was all metaphorical; he wasn't standing. He was laying limp on the ground with the deep, soul-scarring mark of this father's hand on his cheek. Yet, even at his most vulnerable, even when he couldn't physically _stand_ he was mentally okay. Dream's been holding the simple fact that he was gay, not into women, with him for years. A _faggot,_ as his dad called him that one time he came home from school to talk about the boy he'd been crushing on. A satanist, a disgrace, a useless, selfish asshole all because he was _not into a specific gender_. The fact that he finally told his parents after years of bidding to their rule of _'you're straight, no questions'_ was enough for him. They could beat him up all they want; his dad could call him the ugliest names he could possibly think of, and his mother could turn her back as she'd always done on her only child. 

But it was okay

It always has been

His heart was just so frail, full of insults he couldn't bare hold it himself and poured some of his baggage onto somebody else. That somebody, his somebody was George. Even in moments like these, where he wouldn't know if he'd make it out without full hospitalization, the only thing on his mind was George. 

He remembers that time they first met in person, six months ago. The way George let him wrap his arms around the small curves of his waist. When he dug into the hug, the way they molded together. He remembers the tweet. God, he was _so happy._ He remembers the heartwrenching smile on his small, adoring face. The way his eyelids battled close every time he'd lean in for his neck. Expectations, reactions, profanity, it was all so perfect to him. The way George worked was perfect; so perfect it was a shame he had to shatter him to fix himself. 

_Thank you._

* * *

6 MONTHS LATER

a year after Dream left

***READ WITH CAUTION: EMOTIONAL AND SEXUAL ABUSE**

George cried into his stained pillow, fingers digging into the fabric of the bed underneath him. Short gasps managed to make their way through the muffled sobs, back deep into a curve. He didn't want to realize it. He refused to. It's a part of him he doesn't want to believe, acknowledge. That part of him that puts a price on his body like it's something sellable. _It'll be over soon._ The soothing voice of Dream had rung in his head, it was almost... unbelievable. Like it didn't happen. He couldn't feel anything but the drag, push, and pull. _It'll be okay soon, I promise._

He repeated that in his head for tens and thousands of times until he believed it. Like he didn't know Connor used him for as long as he wanted, as much as he wanted. He doesn't know how he got here, honestly. A month or so ago he was perfectly fine, refusing sexual intercourse for this very reason. He'd been so afraid of someone hating themselves so much they'd use him. Now, it's the only thing that gets him off. 

"Fuck, yeah, you like this? Huh?" George whimpered, his knuckles white, ass bruised. Connor gripped at the back of his neck, "Answer me, slut." He cried out a meek, 'yes.' from underneath the embarrassment that churned his insides molten black. Connor was very aggressive during sex and had no mercy over the fact that George had not had much experience. His movements got sloppier before the grip on George's hips was so tight the skin around it turned a fragile white. "F-fuck, I love you!" The grunt that escaped Connor's throat wasn't what made George start gagging, it was the words he spoke. How could he possibly _love_ someone he abuses? 

Yet, George didn't know that. He never did. Always the last one to know, to realize, to acknowledge. Whether someone hides the truth from him or he ignores it for himself. He blames it on others or the fact that he's generally oblivious, but deep down, if he pulled that branch that squeezed at his stomach every time he lied to himself, he'd realize it was his own hand. 

Connor's body relaxed, spilling into the condom generously. As soon as he pulled out, George's body fell against the bed. He was motionless, face pale. Looked, sick, if I'm honest. He watched from the side of his eye as the hazel-haired boy got up and out of bed. He threw the condom into the bathroom trashcan. However, when he picked his clothes up, George's throat closed. His eyes widened, "W-where are you going?" He spoke, eyebrows furrowing. Connor met his beautiful, honey tinted eyes, before smiling, "Getting food. I'll be back, I promise."

_Promise. I promise._

George trusts him. "Okay... I'll wait for you." Yet, his gut knew otherwise. 

As soon as he heard the door click shut, George sighed. After everything he's fought for, _this_ is what he becomes? 

The brunette forced himself to sit up and get out of the dirty bed. He stood in front of his room door, watching as the bathroom illuminated the rest of the house. He walked towards and into the bathroom, only to regret everything. He made eye contact with the mirror, and he swore it _judged_ him. The pale bruises over his naked body, the gentle scars of his heart. He saw the eye-bags under his eyes, his chapped lips, he looked _dead._ He was expression-less.

Until a sob broke out. 

His hand raced to his mouth, and yet another sob. His eyes carried tears he could bear no more, and so he cried. 

Connor never came back, and all he could recite all night was

_I forgive you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I LITERALLY ALMOST CRIED WRITING THIS UHHHHHH... guys we should make like a sad group chat or something just balling our eyes out bc this is NOT OKAY 
> 
> P.S. if any of you have ever gone through something like this, or ARE going through something like this, please reach out. Matter of being, if you are anything but okay, please reach out. I'm always, always, always available to talk to. I would NEVER want anyone going through something alone. Please remember that you've come so far, and it's never EVER too late. You are valid, you are WORTHY, and most importantly, I love you. If everyone else in the world turned their back to you, please remember that I love you. HAVE AN AMAZING DAY <3333


	8. Self-Sabotage ft. Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At this point, the continuous stabs at Dream's feelings are making him want to die inside. He just can't seem to stop stabbing himself.

_How to turn your best friend down_

_Will turning my best friend down ruin our relationship?_

_When should I turn someone down?_

Welcome, everyone, to Dream's safari history. Apart from the 3-day-old George twitter links, it is now bombarded with WikiHow. Ah, yes, you either love them or hate them. In Dream's case, it was his only option.

He scratched the back of his head, a loud sigh emitting from his lips. He knew he couldn't lead Eric on; it'd hurt him. But now, he couldn't even ask about Jake, or whatever his name was. That was a joke, Dream remembered exactly _everything_ Eric had told him about this 'Jake.' 

Apparently, he was some sweet, caring, amazing guy who happened to scare George into leaving the call days back. One thing about Dream is that he tends to be very emotionally quiet. If he notices something off, he won't speak of it- as a matter of fact, he won't think about it. Not for a while, because he knows he'll end up finding something that'll either destroy _him_ or somebody else. If you took a peek at Dream's face right now, or full-fledged stared at him like Eric was doing, you could almost _see_ the wheels turning in his head. Something felt _off._

Yet, he had no more time to think because he was too busy stuffing his phone somewhere Eric couldn't see. "I got you rocky road!" Eric handed him the cold Ice-Cream cone, a bright smile tugging at his skin.

They were currently in Florida's most popular ice-cream shop, trying not to die of boredom during these tough weeks. I'd guess it was famous for the ice-cream, but it's rather for the aesthetic look. Yellow, pink, and light green walls with colorful tables and basic chairs. Best for Instagram, if you ask me.

Dream accepted it, "thanks, I should've paid, but you beat me to it." He didn't, Dream was too distracted to even offer. Eric shook his head, "No, no, it's okay." He sat beside the blonde, hands playing with his jean strings. Yes, his hands played with his jean strings because he bought himself no ice-cream. Why? I don't know bruh ask h-

"Hey, Uhm, can we... share?" 

Oh, that's why. 

Dream looked over with wide eyes, mouth overbearing, and full. "Oh." _Oh? Really, Dream? That's... that's all you can say?_

"Sure, sure, yeah." His eyebrows furrowed before he scurried out a nod. Eric's eyes shimmered and he leaned in to take a bite of the ice cream, only to break Dream's thought process, as well as redirect his blood flow. _Shit._ I don't know, man, I swear he has a fetish for food. First, it was the cotton candy with George, now it's the ice-cream. And maybe... maybe he didn't mind watching the way Eric's tongue licked his lips after he'd bit off half a scoop. 

22 and his hormones still took over his actions. Lord, what a _ride._ I'd love to say quite literally, but gladly, Dream had a little more dignity than to let Eric ride him in a public bathroom. Instead, he let him unbutton his pants and give him the best head he'd ever gotten. I swear Eric is some sex god. 

_"Fuck, fuck,"_ Dream's head was practically glued to the wall, completely forgetting they were public. He gripped George's short brown hair, hips bucking messily into the warm escape. "So close," he mumbled, eyebrows furrowing for the nth time that day. His mind _ate_ anything that spoke George. Absorbed, stored, and used it as an excuse to wake up every morning. "Sh-shit," His head knocked forward, mouth wide open before he stuttered out a big, big mistake. 

"I love you,"

He came in George's mouth, sure everyone had heard them by now. He opened his eyes, only to analyze Eric's pink face rather than George's.

_Shit. Shit, shit, shit shit shit._

Eric looked happy. Shocked, yes, scared, even, but he was happy. And so I felt bad for him once he watched the guy he swallowed to stumble out the bathroom in a hurry. Dream's fingers shook as he tried to button his pants up. He felt everyone's stares, he didn't need to acknowledge them. Even when he left the store, he felt like everyone was _staring at him._ A disappointment stare, one you can't ignore. Maybe the universe wanted him to stop fucking with everyone, but he _swore_ he's trying. He is... trying. 

He needs to _go._ Funny how he only realizes things when he's finally hurt someone. He sits in his car, pulling his phone out before sending Eric a message.

_I'm so sorry. please give me some time._

Yes, everybody, it's finally happening. He's learned to apologize for something he did. Because he's not oblivious, but he thinks Eric is. He thinks Eric doesn't know his glowing feelings for George when in fact he does. He's trying rather than giving something up. Something many people may hurt at, but do themselves. We are all inevitably selfish, it's just that some people realize that a bit earlier than others. Eric was one of them. 

Dream wasn't exactly lying, either. He knows he needs to think- plus, George... George has a boyfriend. He can't be anything but a friend to him, and that isn't the position he wants to equip. _I need to learn to like someone else._

That somebody else, sadly, was not himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HSVJHGSEFKGEFKHWVHJRFGHEKGHRSFBHJLERBJHFBEJR THE DISCORD SERVER IS HERE THE DISC SERVER IS HERE THE DISC SERVER IS HERE   
> https://discord.gg/hYUQyj  
> iF the link doesnt work just tell me ur disc username and ill add u B)) IM ECXICTEDDDD also ill be making a lot of people admin and mods bc I don't rlly know how to make good servers so ik you guys have better ideas than me ShaKING MY HEAD   
> THIS CHAP KINDA MAKES ME FEEL WEIRD INSIDE AND OUT STG I DONT KLIKE THIS I be torturing myself omg 


	9. Repetitive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor knows it, he knows, he knows, he knows, he knows he has to leave. But he can't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***TW: TALKS OF SUICIDE/ABUSE!***

It's... quite sad,  really.

How George has learned to detach from people. To be fair, practice makes perfect, right? Wrong.

You've forgotten that society is a shitshow and no one can ever state positivity without contradicting themselves. If practice makes perfect, why is perfection nonexistent? If it's nonexistent why do we _thrive_ for it?  Why do we get up every morning with hopes of doing something better and ending up with a little less faith than the day before?

George can seem to let go of somebody, yes, but what about those memories? Well, friends, he takes them, balls them up, shoots, and _scores_. He knows how fucked he is, Connor needs to apologize. So do I, because I refused to include George's last chapter. Sorry, but what was there to talk about? The ball he threw never came back to him. In fact, it walked right out that very door and never looked back.

So it might surprise you that George had his hand on that same door handle. eyes staring into those of whom stabbed at his heart and never bothered to fix him. He bit his lip, it _hurt_. God, it hurt. How could he love someone like him? He was aware of this, yes, but he couldn't say no. He could never say no. Because just like Dream, George stood there as Connor's forever and always.  A big, goofy grin repressing his hurt with open arms as a last resort for the stupid,  annoyingly beautiful boy in front of him.

"George I need to get something."

His eyes... his eyes. His hands, the aura surrounding him.  Just like that one night. You remember, right? That night before everything went downhill. when Connor's wide hands held his waist with _permission_ , with love.

His throat cleared, hoping the tears could find an escape somewhere other than his face. "W-what is it?" His gaze dropped, the small hairs of his arms rising in contrast as a shudder went down his spine. _He won't hurt you. He would never hurt you, stop it._ His hands held each other down and his face forced itself to look up. "My... it's not important. Can I... can I  just  go in, please?"

Connor's eyes flew past him and right back onto his face. He looked desperate, but he didn't walk in without permission. "If it's not important you don't need it."

Those words fell out of the brunette and he immediately wanted to crouch down and pick them up; stuffing them right back inside. _Don't talk back._ "Please, George, I promise I won't..." he looked away from George's timid face, "come back again. I  just -" he paused. _Is he okay?_ "Please, _please_ let me in. I left something here a-and-"

A breath, a mumble.

"N-no,"

And it was at this moment that George finally, for the first time, felt like he and his abuser had connected. The way he could feel the anger that boiled through his veins, it was rising, it was rising. "George. Please." So when he looked up and into his ocean eyes of terror, he shook his head  meekly. "No..."

_Boiling_

"Fuck, It's important!" Connor yelped, he was screaming. He was screaming in a bubble no one heard him through. Not even George. "No! I said n-"

"Shut the fuck _up_."

It's like his mouth opened 20 meters too wide, and a roar escaped. You were supposed to help me. "What are you gonna do? Huh!? Hit me, Connor?" George's nails dug into the skin of his palms, he wanted to cry. "Go ahead, hit me, _kill_ me for fucks sake!"

_Explode_.

His breath shook, his eyes could barely carry the baggage they held. "Try it, please! Please!" He _begged_. "See if I care! Not like I want to live anyway!" His statements were piercing, they poked at every scar in Connor's skin.

"Because it's tiring, Connor, it really is. Sitting my fucking ass down and watching as you destroy me. You broke me." He inhaled, and a hiccup escaped his lips. "I don't wanna do this anymore. It hurts. I can't _cry_. Connor, I-" his voice broke, and

"I can't fucking cry anymore. I can't _breathe_. I don't want to fucking breathe-"

Connor's hands shook before he finally realized that he hadn't hurt George. He took him as a person and spit on him. His arms opened, pulling the crying boy into his arms, chin resting above his head. He was broken. Connor sees that now, because he can't seem to hold himself together either. "I'm sorry," he whispered, hand coming to cradle George's throbbing head.

The wails that escaped George's lips were enough to kill him. The weak punches he threw at Connor's chest with his half-closed fists hurt. "I'm _so sorry."_

I wish I could explain this in grand detail but I cannot. Because when your lungs finally run out of the air, your tears can't stop flowing.  Your throat is dry yet you're still screaming death- That is an inexplicable experience. Life has no meaning at this point, and George realizes that. Yet, you aren't supposed to figure that out until you get there, and he's had enough. He's had enough. He's had so much he's full and tired of it. He doesn't want to live anymore.

A simple concept for simple people.

Except he wasn't simple, and he knew that, but he still wanted to close his eyes and fall into neverending sleep. But George couldn't do that, because if he did, he would never be able to feel the breeze of an autumn evening ever again. He would never be able to listen to Girl in Red again, never get to talk to his friends again. He was a _coward_ and we all know it.

We all know it because we recognize it.

And when his sobs died down, and a fistful of Connor's shirt slipped from his fingers, Connor spoke.

"I know I've hurt you. But I can't help it. I get with someone so amazing and I have to fuck it up because I can't deal with my own pains, and I'm sorry about that."

"I envy you,  really  ." He sighed, "You're... strong.  Incredibly,  overwhelmingly strong. I... I love that about you. I love everything about you, which is why I can't be with you."

Before he could continue his heartfelt apology, his arms started to feel heavy.  "George, uh- I can't carry you I'm a little weak-" His arm reached for George's waist in a swift motion, holding the limp body in his arms. "George?

no response.

This is when he finally looked down and noticed the pale, simple figure that was George. "Fuckin'-" He shook the boy, watching as his meek body shivered back and forth.

He didn't wake up.

_The whales start to beach themselves_

_Tortoise shells tear away from their spines_

_It happens all the time, it happens all the time_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SUICIDE HOTLINE:800-273-8255  
> EMERGENCY CONTACT:911  
> PERSONAL: w.liatejeda@gmail.com  
> Don't think you ever have to go through anything alone. I love you, please, please keep going.  
> http://www.suicide.org/suicide-hotlines.html
> 
> s0.... this chap was kinda ass im so sorry omg :( it's 1 am and I had so much schoolwork today! but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless! tysm for reading :(( <333 I LOVE YOU!! Please, please remember that. Here'sa new discord link for those of you who couldn't get in bc the link expired!!:  
> https://discord.gg/G56mKK  
> if that doesn't work just add my discord and ill add you!  
> my discord: lol ur mom#7936  
> <33333


	10. Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everybody's a shitshow, but I think we all crave a little happy. Some of us can't find that without walking on walls and dancing to nothing but our own hums.

_"I would never do drugs! What the hell!"_

We are currently spectating Dream's parents confronting him on the one topic they hoped they would never have to drag out. "Dream, If you're not on drugs then what the hell is this-"

"I swear to _fuck."_ His eyebrows furrowed, face growing angry.

"I'm," exhale. "Not," Inhale, "On," exhale, "Drugs."

This was pretty much all it took to make Dream's dad dig his fingers into his calloused palms, and all the blonde could do was take it in. The knuckles that clashed with his jaw blew his eyes open. What was once his blurry vision is now strings of black with carefully decorated stars hung about them. 

_"You fucking disgrace."_

Because, see, we all have different coping mechanisms. All have that one thing that could make us grin in the worst of moments. Dream hadn't... he hadn't found that yet. A 16-year-old with the perfect life; Money, an only child, homophobic parents. Yet he felt so miserable. So _ugly_ simply because he had nothing of his own. Yes, he had his own room. His own phone, own fucking car. But he didn't have a _life_ , per-say. 

It all consisted of mundane everyday 2010s and its modernity adorned with depression. He craved anything _but_ what he had. He craved color, vibrance, love, attention, friends, hobbies, chores, parents. And one day, a guy at his school had told him he could have all of it, except in his head. For a couple of hours, a dosage or two and it was enough to knock him into the bliss his heart was so voracious for. He was an addict for what you would argue to be the wrong reasons.

But in reality, the drawings on his ceiling and the feeling that his heart was going to explode if he'd fly higher was _exhilarating._ Better than anything he'd ever experienced before; not a single discomfort. 

Of course, that _was_ until his parents found his little stash. 

Dream likes to think this was where it all started. His hatred for his parents, he means. Because, believe it or not, there lived a moment where Dream didn't look at his dad and immediately want to gauge his eyes out. The mere _look_ of him was disgusting. His mental capacity was that of a child, and let's not get started on his mother. _God, his mom._

Your mother is somebody who loves you unconditionally. Comfort you when you can't cry in front of daddy, and spoil you until she goes bankrupt. But this one? She was a shadow. His dad liked it that way because then he had the _power._ Control freak to the point where he'd take the strings of every limb in her body and tell her to stand still as he beat his son up for the nth time. 

_Why can't you be what I fucking want?_

_Why cant you be whatt i fucking want??_

_why csnt you b what i fking want?_

_y cnat u b what i fkucking want??????_

Because his words meant nothing but shit, and they sounded like it as well.

* * *

A YEAR LATER

THE DAY DREAM MET GEORGE

Today, he was sober.

Sober of color, stripped of his escape. 

He has been, ever since his dad had lost enough balls to punch his child in the face for unapologetically hating him. For growing tired of the same old man he intended to care for. 

But, it's quite ironic. The boy who could see no color had given him precisely that. Dream let a laugh emit from his sore throat, "I'm Dream." This, everybody, is the beginning of something he didn't know would destroy and completely rebuild his life. 

"Hi green man, I'm George," A giggle. "Wanna... want my discord? I could add you and maybe we could play...together sometime?" It wasn't possible to see it through his screen, but the elder was smiling. He was grinning so hard his cheeks hurt, you could tell by the sugary undertones the minute he spoke. "Yeah, yeah, sure!"

An exchange of tags and unnoticeable grins, prepared with a side of gay. After this spontaneous trip through George's mind, Dream adjusted. Days passed, then weeks, months, years. There wasn't a single possible way he could teach himself to detach. This is what made the two so incredibly different. George does what he _has_ to, Dream goes by what he _wants._ And George? George was definitely on his bucket list. 

And for once, he has ambition. Something he overthinks about; a person he can cry, laugh, smile with. Someone who won't judge him for scooting a little bit lower than expected, laughing a little too loud, or forgetting to turn the AC on. No, they _laughed._ George was his _medicine._ His... his forever and ever, the one thing he knew didn't have to be temporary. They could be best friends until the lights went out and it'd be all okay. 

_It would all be okay._

* * *

5 YEARS LATER

PRESENT TIME

"You're back? how long has it been, bro?"

The familiar face greeted him, a big smile on his face like he's living the best he ever had. "Couple years, y'know." Dream spoke, shrugging after the awkward side hug. His eyes averted to the man's hands, _they shook._

"So, what you want? I assume you're here for more than small talk?" 

Dream chuckled, admiring how barren the walls looked, how crooked the floorboards were, and how overly expensive every little thing in this place was. "Yeah, yeah, uh, I'd like some L7?" His eyes spoke uneasy, cheeks puffing out like a scared toddler. _He's not gonna shoot you, calm the fuck down._ Yet, his mind was of no reassurance. 

"What's the magic word?"

"Randy, c'mon," Dream's dimple flexed, mouth plummeting into a pretty smile. "Alright, alright. We currently out, but I could put you down on the list? There are only a couple of people in front of you." Randy had looked at him, eyebrows cocky as his arms crossed and his biceps flexed unwillingly. He was quite the barer of looks; fluffy black hair and overlayed hazel for eyes. Perfect bunny teeth and an overall sweet charisma for someone who does something so obscure. 

Dream, however, was not thinking of Randy's fuckable features right now, but rather his needs. "Yeah, uh, can you... Can't you do me a favor? I'm a little...desperate." 

This made the ravenette laugh, "This is a drug dealer you're talking to, babe. _Everyone_ is desperate." He turned around, reaching across his kitchen countertop for his metal-looking vape. He inhaled some, head knocking back before he blew all his stress out. He could physically tell Dream was pouting like a 7-year-old and sighed. "I guess you could do something for me..."

With this, Dream's eyes shimmered. God, they _exploded_ in constellations. "Anything, just... Please." 

"Let me hit."

Dream's eyebrows furrowed, and his precious eyes grew dull. "What?" Randy chuckled, "Let me fuck you, c'mon. You're quite the catch." His eyebrows twitched, eyes checking him from one curve to the next. "What the _fuck?_ No, dude." 

Randy shrugged, "Your loss." He nodded towards the exit behind him, referring to get the fuck out before he unwillingly fucked the younger. Dream scurried, closing the door behind him before running straight back into the passenger seat.

"Didn't work, sorry Eric. He said there would be no more for months."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO IVE DECIDED TO UPDATE EARLY :D dw I will still upload Monday, I just felt bad for leaving u guys with such little to work with :( I'll try to make chapters longer from now on!! have an AMAZINGGGGG day and DONT. DO. DRUGS. >:( I LOVE YOU! Take care of yourself!


	11. Bravery's Soldier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A life-yearning expedition across a river called self-worth.

THE DAY BEFORE DREAM AND ERIC MADE UP

_I'd always been afraid of you. It was a regurgitating feeling I never understood the meaning of. I sat there and ate it up like a good boy because I was scared that if I didn't, I wouldn't be here today. Maybe physically, but my emotional happiness would've been long gone._

_Every day with you is like walking across a steep, neverending river. I see the exit, It's harmless. I can breathe. But I take a step forward and I've made no progress. The stream is getting stronger, and stronger, and maybe one day, I'll be weak enough to give up._

_Why don't you get it? Why... Don't you get it?_

_Why don't you get me?_

Dream sat in his car, hands gripping the steering wheel with shaking hands. _Inhale, exhale._ He closed his eyes, vision growing tired of the stinging in his eyes. His forearm wiped the tears from his face, and soon enough he was wailing in a vehicle as he hugged himself the tightest he could. 

It sounds rather sensitive of him, maybe a little too exaggerated. But he doesn't care, because he's crying to get better. He's struggled with this before, and now he's losing everything he has over the same mistake. 

When he and George met up for the first time, it was like sparks flew. Yes, sparks flew. They were pink and blue, and purple and rainbow. All shades, shapes, sizes, and sounds. It was _perfect._ So perfect he wanted to take a picture of it and imitate it. To _him,_ that moment was so... beautiful. Their relationship had been at its peak; unspoken feelings and overbearing smiles. And Dream, he couldn't believe it'd get any better than that. No, he was so _scared_ of fucking it up that he wanted it all to be the same.

He didn't want improvement, he didn't want a relationship, difference, realization. But George _did._

George wanted more. He wanted so much so fast that Dream didn't know how to process it. It's like swallowing an ice cube whole; it hurts. He wanted a relationship, a boyfriend that was sure of his sexuality, even more cats, move to the US, live in a big house, and grow old together. Dream was merely processing holding hands in public. 

Now, he meets Eric. They are... they're _amazing_ friends. Eric encourages him to do things he would never do but is also quite selfish. Dream thought of Eric as someone he could ask to be his best man 7 years later, someone he could eat 3 boxes of pizza and simp in front of. He thought, he thought, he _thought._ Everything was just _fine_ the way it was; simple and steady. 

Until Eric started to change. And just like George, he went 365 mph whilst dream was still walking along the sidewalk. He can process change, but he needs _time._ And that's something Eric wasn't willing to give. Because he wanted it _now._ He was willing to sacrifice somebody else's state of mind just for a blowjob, fuck with a 5-year-old friendship for his own benefits. 

But Dream understood him. He understood him to the point where he let Eric knock on his car window and cradle him in his arms as he sobbed his heart out of his chest. _I'm tired. I'm tired. I'm so, so tired._

* * *

CURRENT TIME

A COUPLE HOURS AFTER CONNOR CALLS 911.

"Didn't work, sorry Eric. He said there would be no more for months."

Dream didn't _technically_ lie, right? I mean, he still said the truth, which was that there was no more. Except, he decided to exclude _he offered to fuck me for a better deal_ part. 

The car drove off, bumpy road beneath them as the beat to the current song playing shocked his limbs weak. Eric tsked, "I was hoping I'd get to get you your own, I think you'd enjoy it." 

"For me? I thought this was for you, Eric-"

"I mean, you look like you need it anyway."

Dream took a deep breath, "N-no, uh- I'm good." A chuckle, "Sure, okay." 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Suddenly, they're stopping at a red light. Dream looks over at Eric, almost sensing the stares. Before he could blink, the blue-eyed boy was advancing on him. He felt the cold lips pertaining to his best friend. His hands dug into the fabric of his pristine, thickly made, bland t-shirt and pushed him away. He looked at Eric with a pained expression, "What the fuck? You said you'd give me some time." Eric rolled his eyes, a smile making its way across his lips. 

The car advanced.

The blonde's elbow rested against the car door, palm holding his cheek comfortingly as he looked out into the lively city of Florida. The sun hit his face, menacing at his freckles as a weak frown overcame his lips. The music vibrating off the walls of the car zoomed past him, and his head felt light. 

What Eric didn't know, however, was that Dream was a past druggie. He _knows_ this feeling. How could he forget when it's all he felt around George. A sour look grew into Dream's face as soon as he realized what the fuck had just happened. 

"Stop the car."

Eric looked over, eyebrows furrowing. "What? Why-"

"Stop the _fucking_ car Eric or I'm jumping out." This was an exaggeration; he would've probably just crashed it instead. :)

Eric pulled over, though the streets were quite crowded. "What do you need?"

Dream lowered the car window, opened the door. He got out and closed it behind him before turning to Eric. "I'm gonna need you to never text me again. Never contact me, or fucking speak to me. I _will_ kick your ass." 

The blonde stuck his middle finger up, walking away silently. 

"DREAM WHAT THE FUCK?"

"I hope you burn in hell, you manipulative fuck." He muttered, taking his phone out to call the one person he wanted to hear. 

_Ring_

_Ring_

_"Hello?"_ _Spoke the soft, heart-warming voice of George._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rr-r---r-r-rr-oll up to my party with my crazy pink wig ;)  
> um so this is.. yikes. IM SORRY I'm trying to make the chapters longer :((( Pls tell me your thoughts and feedback! What would you like me to implement into this story? Each and every tip/piece of constructive criticism is really super duper appreciated!! I love you ALLLL


	12. this is not an update :( PLEASE READ IMPORTANT!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just an author's note for you guys. Very important, please read.

Hello! 

I have decided to discontinue SF. FOR NOW!

I will be publishing a new fic today, but I don't think it's fair leaving for a while without explaining myself. I have recently decided that maybe I should step away from the NSFW for a while, considering personal conflicts. The only problem was, SF includes a _lot_ of upcoming smut. And at this point, I don't feel very comfy writing it anymore. Maybe I'll make some more NSFW fics in the future but for now, I will stick to what I'm comfy with.

I want you guys to know that this won't be on hold forever, but rather quite a while. I just need to find myself and find what I'm comfy with. Do that, until I'm comfy with NSFW again. Thank you guys so much for the support on this. It was my first ever time publishing any artwork of mine on the internet and not a _single_ hate comment. Honestly, you guys mean the world to me. I won't call you 'fans' because to me you aren't people who admire me, you admire my work and possibly want to improve. I look up each and every one of you for that. Thank you guys. So, so, so much. You have always been so kind and It's so nice realizing that you can do something you love and get positive feedback. I want to thank you guys for giving me the opportunity to do this, because without you I wouldn't have improved. If you read SF chapter 1, you can tell I definitely improved and ended up having to extend the plot because some of you wanted a sequel! So... I mean... you got _two_ LMAOOO 

**THE FIC I WILL PUBLISH TODAY**

It's a surprise, but it's quite horror and a little bit gory, incase you don't like that stuff. The gore isn't explicit and explained, though. Just sort of told to you. That's all I will give away apart from the fact that it's also DNF! Have an amazing day!!! I'll see you guys tonight :) 


	13. Man Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Only when it gets hard for you do you realize they were easy. All Dream had to do was accept himself, yet he couldn't and look where it took him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't leave this story omg. im attached.

_Ring_

_Ring_

_"Hello?" Spoke the soft, heart-warming voice of George._

The smile that walked itself into Dream's tired face was more than colorful. Oh, it was _vibrant._ Everything felt so dull, grey, comical. But the minute he'd heard the voice pick the phone up he was more than content. "H-hey... I just..." Dream tried to get the upcoming words out. He pushed them, hell, tried to pull them out. But all that left was mere silence. 

"I know... you love me," George said, "And you want me, right?" the giggle that left his lips was a little more than diabolical. Dream chuckled, a shadow of awkward crawling up on his skin, through the sleeves of his plain shirt. "What do you mean? I..." He was in shock, to say the least. He's never heard George be this upfront, but then again it had been a year. One painful _ass_ year. "Oh, c'mon, Dream. Don't lie to me... I know you love me." 

"I know I complete you. Without me, you won't ever be whole again, will you?" Once again, stutters of silence slithered out of Dream. What in the fuck. "Okay, uh, I get it, George, but that's a little-" 

"What? Too straightforward? Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot you're the only one who's allowed to express their feelings without giving two fucks about the other person." 

He didn't know why he started to sob. His cheeks felt wet, and all of a sudden his phone had slipped out of his hands. "I'm sorry..." He wiped his cheeks, only to see the lovely red that he'd smeared on his palm. His eyes widened, before his soul was pulled out of his body. "I'm behind you." 

He turned as fast as humanly possible, and he didn't know whether to smile or stain his face red. "George?" The brunette smiled, arms widening. He pulled Dream in for a wide hug, watching as confusion rained down on the two. Dream completely ignored the phone call. He refused to acknowledge it and just took this as a blessing from the brightest blue sky. "Miss me?" George whispered, hands patting Dream's heaving back with the gentleness the younger dreamed of every night. "So much... I'm so sorry," Dream mumbled against the thin collar of George's shirt. "I won't ever leave you again. I promise!" 

George chuckled, "Of course you wont." His hands left Dream's back, and his warm, honeydew voice turned to one of stone cold. "How could you leave me if you're dead?" 

The pain that froze itself along Dream's veins was nothing in comparison to his bleeding heart. He gagged out a few moans, before a cry erupted from his throat. "How does it feel to get absolutely betrayed by those who love you? hmm?"

Dream's body curled up into itself, knife pulling out before digging back in. He fell onto the floor, short, muffled sobs leaving his broken soul. "I-I'm so-sorry..." 

_"I know." George's hands dug the knife out of his bleeding back, before rushing into it again._

And then he opened his eyes.

* * *

George didn't know what hurt more. His head, or his eyes. The bright, white ceiling lights were a blur as air swept his hair toward the roots of his scalp. He hummed. His mouth felt dry, lips chapped. Before he could complain, though, the shuffling beside him increased, until he saw a familiar figure towering above him.

"George?"

A laugh.

"George! Nurse! He's up! He's up!" The brunette watched as Connor swept his hand carefully and kissed it repeatedly. "God, I was so worried! Are you okay? Is everything alri-"

"Cut the bullshit."

George pulled his hand back, Connor's eyes filling with remorse. "Listen, about the other day-" Before he could finish, George' shook his head meekly. "Don't start. Please, don't start. My head- it hurts. Just get the nurse." Connor knew what he wanted to do, but it was better to give George what he wanted than to shove it down his throat. "Okay..."

Connor's footsteps faded, before soon enough he saw what was, without fault, his nurse. He smiled (as much as he could, anyway), "Hello." She retrieved the gesture before walking over to the big monitor beside his small hospital bed. "What... happened to me?" He asked, looking over.

"Oh nothing big. Just overwhelmed yourself to the point where you sort of... exploded, to put it in your words." The nurse spoke, receiving a nod from the brunette. As he was about to ask another question, he heard ringing. Connor's phone was on the nightstand beside him, ringing repeatedly from the same unknown number. "Excuse me, do you know where Connor went?" 

"Oh, you mean the tall light-brown haired asshole? He went to the bathroom."

George nodded. And he contemplated. No, he really did. Tried so hard not to pick his phone up and press that calling green button. However, impulses can be very tempting. "Hello?"

"Connor? Where are you? I'm starting to get impatient."


	14. Woohoo no more self sabotage!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Dream learns to let go, and George learns that maybe he isn't very okay.

"Connor? Where are you? I'm starting to get impatient."

The slow, steady breathing was quite the only thing he'd needed to realize he'd severely fucked up. George ended the call almost immediately, placing the phone back onto the nightstand, upside down as it'd been before. The nurse, and quite honestly his only moral support (along with Dream, but he's too pussy to call him.) had taken his temperature and left. 

George didn't like this. He didn't like it at all. Matter of fact, he doesn't think he'd ever been hospitalized before- and the first thing he gets hospitalized for is _stress_ _?_ Are you _kidding_ me? What a wack way to go down. He thought his first visit would be something like a broken foot or a cool cyan arm cast. He looked up at the ceiling, a chuckle emitting from his raw throat. Then he laughed again, eyes crinkling. It happened once more, and now he was laughing at himself in mere silence.

It's stupid, really. The way he thinks of these things when Connor is walking in, snatching his phone and leaving once more. In a life or death situation, he'd probably think of how angry he was that he couldn't get his dream car instead of his stomach bleeding out on his hands. A tear rolled down his face, and then another, and another, and another and another until the bed was his pool, and he was the supplier. 

He didn't understand why this would happen to him. Why does his life have to be so fucking miserable? Yes, he self-pities. I'm sure you would too if you were in an abusive relationship with some dickhead who refuses to leave you alone. But, he figures it's useless. All crying is going to do is puff his pretty, honey-brown eyes and wet his pale forearms. He just wants to leave. 

* * *

Dream woke up, and everything felt like _shit._

Yes, like literal shit. My man's mouth was dry, his eyes were in pain and it felt like he was going to die, but in the repeated cycle of it. He grabbed his head, sitting up on the white bedsheets of the king-sized bed. The aura that the bed emitted was more than familiar. It scared him, to be quite honest. He looks around before his eyes catch the soft, sleeping body of Eric. 

He can't remember everything like you usually would in a book or movie after looking at the person who had drugged you, but his gut is enough of a feeling that tells him to get the hell _out_ of that place. But he couldn't. He sighs, moving closer to Eric and coddling in his arms like he hadn't been hurt repeatedly by him. 

Yes, he knows it's wrong. Yes, he knows he shouldn't forgive him. Yes, he knows he should forgive himself. And he does, he truly does. But after that dream, he can't... it's impossible to hate Eric. They're friends, and Eric was just being extremely selfish. We're all human, we do that, it's _okay._

Eric saw George as a threat. Yes, he saw him as a blood-sucking demon who just wanted to haunt Dream. But that's because he chose to look at it that way. He wanted someone to justify the forbidden love he'd held for his own best friend. He thought, maybe if George was the bad guy, my actions could count as acceptable. They did not. Yet Dream held him in his arms and kissed the crown of his head, caressing his cheek like he was going to leave without warning. Because he was.

After all, it _is_ his thing, is it not? 

Dream got up, making sure not to disturb Eric, grabbing his phone. He noticed he'd still been in his clothes from yesterday, and he internally smiled. Could he really have gone as low as thanking someone else for _not_ touching him when he didn't want to? Jesus...

He looked behind him, just one last time for dramatic purposes. But he shouldn't have. Eric sat on the bed, a big pout on his face as his messy bed hair went all directions. "You're leaving me this fast?" Eric mumbled, and when their eyes met Dream swore he felt something. Not necessarily love, or anything of the sort, but more of a slight electric shock. One that couldn't kill, but could burn a house down. 

Dream opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted. "I know. You don't have to say anything. I, um," Eric chuckled, looking down at his hands meekly. "I know." 

"A-and, I know that you're leaving," He pulled at the skin around his nails vigorously.

"And I know I don't deserve the closure, or- or anything, but I just wanted to know if... Uhm, If you can forgive me." Eric smiled, a small tear falling from his chin. "I don't think I could live with myself if you didn't." 

Does he deserve it? No. 

Does he need it? No.

But the least Dream could do was give him one last thing before he left. 

Dream walked toward the weeping boy, tapping his chin gently. "Hey." 

"Hey, look at me." Dream pulled his face upward, a soft, relaxed look on his face. He sighs, letting their foreheads lean against each other. He leans in and kisses his lips, and for the first time, it felt right. Out of all the moments where they'd kissed, this one wasn't for lust. It held something with more weight than superficial needs. Eric sobbed into the kiss, eyebrows furring as tears streamed down his face. They both pulled away, and Dream just watched as the green-eyed boy leaned into his soft touch. 

"Goodbye, Eric." 

And for once, Eric felt the strength to let him go. 

* * *

George smiled at the receptionist, a weak thank you leaving his lips. He walks off with his bill receipt in hand, grateful to feel the pinching air of England. Just like how it all started, he felt something. The music that played through his ears, however, wasn't his everyday Spotify playlist. It was his jealousy as he saw the chatter of everyday people, the sing-songy birds that perched on the branches of store titles, little kids playing together. Everyone looked so _alive_ and he felt so dead. 

His phone buzzes, 

_Pissbaby#0241 has sent you an image. jpg.8927649120.camera.roll_

George's eyes widen as he analyzes the picture. 

Why the _hell_ was he holding a plane ticket? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yahoo? um chile- anyways AHAHA how are you guys? sorry I've been uploading kind of late, but I've been busy & my eyes are killing me. I hope you guys are all staying safe & healthy!

**Author's Note:**

> ***DISCLAIMER!***  
> Please remember this is for entertainment! I in no way, shape, or form, intend to make any of the people mentioned in this short series uncomfortable or out of place. If anything, I love them and just like to have fun. George and Dream are both human beings and have a right to be respected. If they ever deem this as inappropriate or they confirm they are not okay with it, I would be glad to take it down. And if you stumbled upon my work and want to hate, that isn't the way to go either. Just because some authors like to write certain genres such as intimacy, doesn't mean they deserve death threats. Please be kind, and have an amazing day!


End file.
